


Just Luck

by xel



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: But also Cuteness, F/M, angsty angsty angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-04 23:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6681055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xel/pseuds/xel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re only human, Ladybug realizes; and the world is too big for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Luck

**Author's Note:**

> Ten minute writing release before bed ...

“I was doing the same things,” says Chat, pacing, “the same things, I was doing the same things.”

Ladybug worries if she says anything, she’ll break his trance and he’ll start thinking about the gash in his thigh, the blood in his eyes. So she doesn’t say anything. The world is spinning anyway, her ears are pounding, she can hear the ocean. Waves crashing, white noise. The world feels blue; sedated almost. She doesn’t know that she can tell Chat that:

Don’t worry, the world feels blue.

Don’t worry.

Chat is sunrise, just on the end of empty dark, teaming with life, a thousand shades of blue and yellow.

The door shakes behind Ladybug; she’s sitting up against it, someone is yelling on the other side – probably the Akuma’s army. Definitely the Akuma’s army. The door shakes again; it wants to give under the pressure of an assault. But Ladybug is, if nothing else, lucky, and so it holds.

“Chat,” she whispers, “look at me.”

His head snaps to her, his eyes are wild. She thinks he might do something unexpected, and she’s half afraid, but this is Chat. Her partner. She trusts him more than any other emotion warring with her. He lets out a strangled sob and crumbles, his thigh giving way under the weight of everything.

Ladybug wants to catch him, but if she moves from the door, they’ll get in so she watches helplessly as his knees crack against the marbled surface of the floor. 

Ladybug knows, as Chat know, as no one else will ever know, what it feels like to watch as people you care about die, to see them alive again. It’s the worst part of the job. Her powers can bring back anyone, but the mental scar of it haunts her in her dreams. So she knows how Chat is feeling, being a survivor of an attack, trying to help others.

“You can do the same things as anyone else,” says Ladybug, “and things can still go wrong … it’s just luck.”

 

* * *

 

When Ladybug sits with him that night, on the cathedral steps, looking for stars which can’t be seen, she wonders as she’s scarcely allowed herself to wonder before: who is Chat Noir?

Who bares that burden? Marinette would never wish it upon another living soul. She sighs deeply, falls into him, head on his lap, so she can look better at the murky sky, tainted by light pollution. Even at two in the morning the streets of Paris are on fire with the light of lamps. Chat’s eyes flicker down to her, curious, and then he grins and the world is blue again, suddenly, and her face is warm behind the mask.

“I can never sleep after fights like these,” she confesses, bringing a hand to his face to trace the cut above his eye. It’s cleaned, scabbed over. A memory, but it scares her. They’re only human, she realizes; and the world is too big for them.

“Me either,” says Chat.


End file.
